Need
by Xarenna
Summary: They come and go. Those odd and less than carnal feelings of want, of comfort, of need... Slash officially HarryxDraco though it could be seen as a number of different pairings. Don't Like it? Don't click the link.


**Need**  
by Xarenna D.

* * *

They come and go. Those odd and less than carnal feelings of want, of comfort, of need. He tends to ignore them when they do come. It wouldn't do to get caught up in such silly emotions.

And that's all they are. Silly emotions. They don't mean a thing.

At least that's what he tells himself as he lay on top of a messy bed on a calm night staring at the ceiling. There's a body on the bed next to his own, both of their skin is damp, covered in cooled sweat, as it has been a while since it formed across the muscular backs and broad shoulders of two synchronously moving bodies.

The other stirs slightly in the lamplight and for a moment he thinks about moving a little closer and pressing against that sweat covered back—but only for a moment.

He thinks maybe he should leave now. Now that the night's dance is over. Now that they've both found their carnal pleasure. He thinks he should —but he isn't sure that he can. The feelings have resurfaced and he isn't quite sure why he suddenly wants to stay but he knows that he does.

He wants to crawl under cool sheets and allow long, muscular arms to wrap tightly around him. He wants to duck his head under a sturdy chin and press his forehead against the sweaty collarbone he finds there. In the morning he wants to wake up with those arms still wrapped around him and with legs tangled up with his own underneath the sheets.

He wants to share breakfast and coffee and chat and joke and when the evening comes he wants to come back to the same place and share dinner and how his day went and any other kind of pointless information that happens to come up before night comes and it's time for bed again. He wants to go back and have those same arms wrap around him, that same chin resting comfortably atop his head. The same person lying next to him covered in damp, cooling sweat.

But it really doesn't matter what he wants because he knows that's all they are. His wants. They don't mean a thing—and the body next to his is stirring a bit again and now he thinks once more that he really ought to leave before he gets too caught up in those same silly emotions—again.

He sits up slowly, turning to the side of the bed and allowing his feet to find the hardwood floor. He grabs his clothes from the floor, stands up, and puts them on. He glances downwards and spots a piece of paper lying on the floor. He picks it up and looks over the words written on it not for the first time tonight. After a few moments of staring at the paper he sighs, folds it in half and sticks it in the right, front pocket of his jeans. A keepsake of the night.

He takes one last glance at the body still lying on the bed and then turns and walks towards the bedroom door. He is quite intent on making a quick exit but he stops when he hears a light groan behind him followed by a murmur of "What?" and he knows that there are two drowsy green eyes focused on his retreating back. He turns a little, just enough to see that he is right and now there are two eyebrows starting to furrow in confusion. Now he really wishes that he would have made a quicker exit so he didn't have to explain that all he really wants is to spend the night here but he can't because he wants more.

Now there are more words coming from the direction of the bed and he sort of doesn't think he should listen to them even though the words are for him. He thinks he should leave now but he listens anyway and the voice is telling him to come back to bed, that they'll talk about it in the morning but to sleep here and because he really doesn't think he can leave and because he knows that he really doesn't want to and because now there is some kind of hope and because he is so caught up in all of it—he walks back over to the bed and returns his clothes to their spot on the floor all whilst the other man watches him with half covered green eyes. For a moment he thinks that maybe he is doing the wrong thing here and for a moment he thinks that in the end he'll only be hurt—but only for a moment—and then he's pulling back the sheets and climbing back into that rather large bed.

And when those green eyes close completely and long muscular arms wrap around his waist pulling him close he thinks that maybe they are just silly emotions and maybe they don't really matter in the long run but maybe, just maybe, it's okay to want some things. When he wakes up in the morning with those same arms wrapped comfortably around him and with legs tangled up with his own under the sheets he thinks that maybe there's really nothing wrong with this odd feeling of need.

* * *

I orginally wrote this as just an exercise in writing. When I first started it, I had absolutely no vision of who the characters in it would be. Neither did I know directly after I finished writing it. Soon after I read over it, however, it became apparent to me that I had to make this a Harry/Draco fic, although neither of them are really mentioned by name or anything really. I suppose you could put any face to the characters in this fic, so feel free, but please, no flaming. You don't like? Don't Look. If you do, It's your own fault. Read the summary you idiot. 


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